Abstract Reality
Henry finished unpacking the final box into the kitchen of the new house that he and his eight year old son, Jacob, moved into. He could not afford his old house so he found the cheapest one on the market. It was old and run down. It was the kind of place you’d imagine an alcoholic like him would live in. It had few rooms; a kitchen, a bedroom, a bathroom and a basement. The exterior walls might have been blue once, but are now black with rot and mould. It was hardly a place for an eight-year-old to be in, but Henry’s wife left him long ago. Obviously, Jacob was unhappy with the move so Henry decided to go check on him. Henry went to the bedroom which was unbelievably small with one window and two beds miraculously crammed in. “Hey Jacob, how’re you doing?” Jacob did not reply. Instead, he looked down at his teddy bear (named Mister Joey). “Would you like some water?” No reply from the young boy. “Well, how about you, Mister Joey? Do you want to have a tea party? That sounds fun, right?” Henry said, ruffling the teddy bear’s head. “Daddy,” said Jacob, looking up at Henry with his big brown eyes. “Why did Mommy have to go?” “Because, son… She just had to,” Henry said, not knowing what else to say. Henry went into the kitchen to make some dinner (which was half a box of Mac & Cheese). They sat at the table for a while without saying anything. Finally, Jacob spoke up. “Daddy, when do I go to school here?” “Jacob, sweetie. We can’t go to school here.” “Why not? Why can’t we do anything?!” “Jacob, lower your voice!” “I didn’t even want to come to this stupid place! I hate it here! I hate you!” That night Henry drank enough beer to give alcohol poisoning to three grown men (at the least). Depressed about what his son had said, he cracked open another can. After a couple of hours of sulking on the couch, he grabbed some of the empty cans to take down to the basement. He dumped them into a trash can at the bottom of the stairs. A glass bottle missed the can and shattered as it hit the floor. “Shit…” He tried to pick up the broken pieces, lost his balance and flopped to the floor with a grunt. Face against the concrete, he was looking at a rectangular shape covered by a cloth. He painfully stumbled to his feet and took the cloth of the shape. It was a mirror. He took it into the bathroom and hung it on a wall where it might have been once. He felt better when he looked into it. Maybe the father in the mirror was a better one than him. He reached out to the reflection of himself. Suddenly, Henry found himself standing in the kitchen. Something seemed different though. The walls were moving (breathing, even), colors would change (although almost imperceptibly), and he had an odd feeling of uneasiness. There were very few details changed from that of reality. It was like an abstract version of the world he knew. He started feeling a bit queasy, like being in this place made him sick. He walked around. When he opened the bedroom door, he saw one of the beds was on the side of the wall. The window was no longer square but triangular. He closed the door and went down into the basement. It was a dark, horrible room; the darkness of the shadows consuming it. What little you could see of the walls were seeping red liquid through the cracks. There were four figures standing in this awful room; dark, tall, inhumanly shadows posing ever so crookedly. They stared at him with huge holes where eyes should be, not moving an inch. Henry ran back upstairs, longing for his old, rundown house and praying those horrid figures would stay where they were. He reached the bathroom and looked into the real world that was in the mirror and pounded against the cold surface. Now in reality, Henry ran towards the bedroom wanting to curl up in the covers with his son until day broke. He swung open the door to see a horrific sight. One of the figures was standing by the foot of one of the beds in all of its dark, emaciated beauty, staring at Henry’s baby boy. Henry stood there with a feeling of pure fear in his stomach. Within a moment, the figure had fled out the window with humanly-impossible speed. Beer in one hand, hammer in the other, Henry stood at the front of their house. He swung the hammer at the mirror and it shattered into a million pieces. The pieces caught the light of the sun and danced across his face and sailed across the street. There was no way he would let that thing in the house with him and Jacob. Henry made breakfast, which was the other Mac & Cheese box they had the day before. He made sure to set an extra chair for Mister Joey. “Did you have a good sleep, Jacob?” “I’m sorry, Daddy! I didn’t mean to say that last night! I’m sorry!” Jacob said, sobbing through tears. “No, Jacob. I’m sorry.” They held each other until they both stopped crying. As nightfall approached, Henry’s stomach sank so low it must’ve been in his shoes. The thoughts that flew through his head were enough to give anybody nightmares. He and his son went to brush their teeth. He saw the mirror… Hanging… from the wall. It was perfectly intact. “What’s wrong, Daddy?” Jacob said. “Nothing, Jacob. Just… Go to bed.” So they both went to bed without brushing their teeth. Henry tried to stay awake. He didn’t want to fall asleep. He was afraid of what might happen if he did. Of course he must have fallen asleep at some point, because he opened his eyes and he was curled in a ball. He felt sick. He slowly looked towards his son’s bed. There it was; that evil figure straight out of hell (or somewhere worse). It was standing at the foot of his son’s bed. It slowly turned its head toward Henry’s. It grinned a horrifyingly large grin, showing a million little razor sharp teeth. In a flash, the thing was gone again. Henry would never forget that malicious smile. He stormed into the bathroom and smashed his fists against the mirror and stood in the kitchen of the abstract reality. He walked towards the basement and saw three figures standing in the dark room. “What do you want?!” Henry screamed at the top of his lungs and they all looked at him and smiled. “We want the child,” they said in cold, hollow, dead voices; blood endlessly pouring from there smiling mouths. The emaciated figures moved towards him, shaking violently. With outstretched arms, they grabbed Henry, their faces so close to his that he could smell the rot on them. “Give him to us. You don’t deserve him.” Henry woke up in bed, his son still fast asleep. Every night that thing got closer to his son. He wouldn’t let them have him. Maybe it’s what Henry deserved, but not what Jacob deserved. He was going to get them out of here. “Jacob! Wake up!” he said, shaking his son. “Daddy?” “We have to leave, now! It’s not safe here!” Henry picked up a couple of things and dragged his boy outside. “Daddy, what about Mister Joey?” his son said, tearing free of his grip and running inside the house. Henry stood in horror. Damn bear! He called his son’s name and ran after him. As he reached the door to their bedroom, he saw Mister Joey on the floor, its head separated from its body. Henry opened the door to see the thing holding Jacob in the air, its gaping wide mouth was dripping with saliva and a long, black tongue slid out of its crooked smile and wrapped around Jacob’s body. It smiled a madman’s smile and it slid out the window and carried Jacob away into the darkness. Category:Mirrors Category:Beings